


Say It Again

by teagay



Series: it's like devilman but wholesome [2]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crybabyverse, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:17:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teagay/pseuds/teagay
Summary: He couldn’t pinpoint when it began, or who initiated it first, but the level of tenderness ingrained in their exchanges was beyond what he’d had in any other relationship. Akira and Ryo’s interactions were a layered dialogue of words and physical affection. When they were in public they limited themselves to occasional touches on the arm or ruffled hair; but alone they were touching as often as not, appropriating each other’s space as naturally as breathing. Even when separated, Akira was hyper aware of Ryo’s presence as if they were linked by some invisible tether. This intrinsic affection voided any concern Akira could have over whether or not Ryo reciprocated the attraction, even though they'd never spoken of it aloud. Their bond, whatever the nature of it was, was unquestionable love.





	Say It Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is Crybabyverse but this interpretation of Ryo is heavily influenced by the manga (basically, he's not an emotionless dick and he loves Akira and cares about his wellbeing).
> 
> This takes place after that bit in episode 6, but you don't need to remember what happens in the ep for this to make sense.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Whatever Ryo had given him triggered a full transformation completely beyond his control. In an instant his body and mind were wracked with a hundred sensations and urges somehow simultaneously conflicting and unanimous. The overwhelming effect turned his vision red. His next memory was Ryo hovering above him, coaxing him into consciousness from where he lay on the floor. 

“Akira? Come on, snap out of it.” Akira blinked up at an ambiguous pale shape floating above him. The floor felt cold and solid under his elbows, the cool sensation drawing out the overwhelming warmth radiating through his leaden limbs. Similarly cool palms cradled the sides of his face, thumbs scraping the stubble on his jawline. Ryo slowly came into focus, his usual downturned lips accompanied by an unfamiliar crease between his eyebrows. His brilliant blue eyes swam with something more than Akira remembered seeing there before.

“Hey,” Ryo said, a slight waver attached to his words.

“What-” Akira swallowed uncomfortably, trying to relieve his voice of its raspy texture. “What happened?”

“We were testing if we could force a devilman into full demon form-

“Oh. Right.” Akira blinked, processing the way Ryo’s face had tensed when he asked what happened. “I guess it worked pretty well then?”

“Yes, it was very effective.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t destroy your apartment did I?”

“No, the precautions we took worked.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” It was Ryo’s turn to blink in reaction. Thumbs on either side of Akira’s face gently stroked his cheeks.

“No, no, I’m fine.” The crease between Ryo’s eyebrows deepened in anticipation of his next question. “And you? Are you in pain?”

Akira thought for a moment, checking in with the physical sensations throughout his body. There was something of a disconnect from his extremities; as if he were aware of them but they weren’t aware of him. He chalked this up to extreme tiredness--it wasn’t entirely dissimilar to how he felt after a particularly difficult training session. Aside from that, he realized Ryo was upside down because his friend’s legs were cushioning his head. Akira appreciated the gesture.

“No, I’m okay. Just drained. Can you help me up?” Ryo nodded and transferred his hands to Akira’s shoulders, helping to push him into a sitting position. A couple minutes and several attempts later, it became clear Akira was too exhausted to move any significant distances despite Ryo’s efforts to haul him to his feet. Eventually, Ryo managed to maneuver his friend onto the couch, where Akira was content to sit and recuperate while Ryo tended to some work.

“Is it cool if I crash here tonight?” Akira asked from where he’d been draped over the couch, not averting his gaze from the ceiling. Some part of his mind had the energy to curse Ryo’s modern aesthetic for its rigid furniture.

“Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem. Will you be moving from the couch?” Ryo’s voice became louder as he spoke, accompanied by the minute click of his footsteps. Akira’s head lolled to the side to see his friend standing a few feet away, face spookily aglow in the blue of his phone screen. Akira’s thoughts had to fight their way out from behind heavy black velvet curtains. As brutally exhausted as he was, he had the presence to find solace in the rapid recovery his demon side promised.

“I didn’t know there was another bedroom here.”

“There isn’t.” Ryo said, absently.

That answered one question Akira had wondered about--Ryo’s assistant didn’t live in the apartment. Her omnipresence was so thorough he couldn’t imagine her having a life separate from her employer. Ryo finished tapping the screen and the blue glow disappeared. 

“Well?” He asked. “Are you coming or staying here?”

Akira groaned unhelpfully in response, his eyes having closed of their own accord and the rest of his body melted into the couch.

“You’re welcome to share my bed. These couches are hardly comfortable enough to sleep on.” Akira reluctantly made the effort of contemplating actually lying down comfortably, and replied by indelicately jerking his arms out towards Ryo, earning a faint smile and amused exhale in response. Long fingers closed around his wrists, orienting one arm across Ryo’s shoulders. “Come on, then. You’re the one with demon strength, not me.” Ryo coaxed, tugging on Akira’s raised arm as he slid his other hand around Akira’s waist. With a reluctant groan, Akira straightened shaky legs and entrusted some of his weight to Ryo.

Ryo helped him to the bed, and they both collapsed to sitting when Akira’s weight was relinquished. The movement and the plushness of the duvet resulted in Ryo’s right side and Akira’s left pressed together like two halves of a whole. In his exhaustion, Akira’s head slumped to Ryo’s shoulder. Reassuring warmth still pressed into his waist where Ryo had yet to release him. Akira inhaled a sweet scent, like petals and citrus, and sighed deeply. The warmth left his side. Something touched his hair, tracing soothing lines into his scalp which lulled him closer yet to the kind embrace of sleep.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to get ready for bed.” 

Akira’s side went cold with the sudden absence of Ryo’s warmth. A gentle pressure at his back stopped him from lazily collapsing backwards onto the bed, and instead lowered him slowly into the fluffy embrace of the duvet. Footsteps gently padded away in the direction of the en suite. Without sitting up, Akira kicked off his jeans onto the floor and rolled over until he was lying parallel to the bed. On his stomach with his cheek buried in the pillow, Akira could see Ryo reflected in the bathroom mirror through the partially open door. A smile parted his lips before it fully registered what was so amusing: the image of someone as bizarre as Ryo doing something as predictable as brushing his teeth before bed. Ryo massaged something into his face, rinsed off with water, and looked up, catching Akira’s eye in the mirror. His reflection returned the smile with a slightly raised eyebrow. When he turned so Akira could see his real face, the expression softened from an acknowledgement of eye contact to something else. This was astray from Ryo’s usual serious features, a rare sighting of something much more suited to his boyish face. Ryo crossed the room, out of Akira’s line of sight, presumably to his closet to fetch pajamas. This also struck Akira as amusing, given that all of Ryo’s clothes seemed appropriate for sleepwear. 

A thought occurred to him. One that he shoved away before it could fully materialize into an image. Lude thoughts plagued his mind since the transformation, hand-in-hand with similarly disturbing depictions of gore and violence. He didn’t allow those thoughts to form about his friends or classmates. It felt like a violation of their trust and privacy, and made his gut twist with shame and guilt. Although, it occurred to him that that shame and guilt stemmed from a lack of consent as well as objectifying real people; neither concern quite applied to Ryo. With Ryo, the attraction was different--it wasn’t shallow. There was a desire for intimacy beyond the superficial; he wanted to be close to Ryo and make him happy. And he was pretty sure those feelings were reciprocated. He couldn’t pinpoint when it began, or who initiated it first, but the level of affection ingrained in their exchanges was beyond what he’d had in any other relationship. The only other person he was close to was Miki, and their physical interactions were limited to playful nudges and light roughhousing, though that happened less often in recent years. Akira occasionally confided in Miki, but it was only with Ryo that he could unhesitatingly bare his soul. Akira and Ryo’s interactions were a layered dialogue of words and physical affection. When they were in public they limited themselves to occasional touches on the arm or ruffled hair; but alone they were touching as often as not, appropriating each other’s space as naturally as breathing. Even when separated, Akira was hyper aware of Ryo’s presence as if they were linked by some invisible tether. This intrinsic affection voided any concern Akira could have over whether or not Ryo reciprocated the attraction, even though he’d never said it aloud. Their bond, whatever the nature of it was, was unquestionable love.

The bed dipped under a new weight and a delicate hand graced Akira’s shoulder, followed by the distinct press of lips to his sleeve. Ryo rolled back to the other side of the bed and the duvet pulled tight under Akira as Ryo slotted himself underneath it.

“Are you coming under the covers?” Ryo asked.

“No, I’m too warm.” Akira mumbled into the pillow.

“Okay. If you change your mind and wake me up in the middle of the night, I will kick you.”

“That’s fair.” Akira yawned.

The bed was big enough that if he hadn’t felt him climb into it, Akira would be unaware of Ryo’s presence. That is, if it weren’t for the invisible tether notifying him of their proximity. The presence of another behind his sleeping back was unfamiliar but wholly welcome. There was a unique comfort brought about by knowing one would sink into unconsciousness and wake in the company of someone safe.

Akira inhaled the sweet citrusy scent of the pillow and let sleep wash over him.

____________

 

His face was wet. Droplets clung in his eyelashes and muted the world in one of his ears. His chest heaved in deep, desperate breaths. The unfamiliarity of the blurry shadowed ceiling above him struck a sudden panic before he bolted upright and his vision settled on the expansive cityscape pouring in through massive windows  
below it, calming his mind even as it raced to understand why. 

Ryo.

“Akira?”

His gaze snapped to the pale figure a few feet away. Akira inhaled and exhaled, trying to relax into a natural rhythm. Blood pounded uncomfortably in his ears. The familiar silhouette padded away to a rectangle of light, and Akira bunched his knees up to support his elbows. He rubbed his face with his hands. 

“Hey,” a soothing tone whispered at his side. He looked up into clear blue eyes. A tentative hand touched his cheekbone, another pressed something soft into his grip. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t wake you.”

Akira looked down at the towel in his hand and suddenly understood. Dozens of images resurfaced in his mind, an amalgam of gore and violence dredged up from his memory as well as terrors he’d only seen in his mind’s eye. Thankfully, the fear that accompanied the dreams did not accompany the memory of them. He dried his face with the towel, finding solace in its softness.

“I think you get to kick me now,” Akira said, flashing Ryo an attempted smirk. Beneath the feigned exterior, a stifling feeling of guilt was expanding in his chest. An unusual tightness around Ryo’s eyes relaxed, his shoulders following suit by sighing away from his ears. Ryo brought a knee up onto the bed and Akira shifted sideways to allow him into the space. Thin arms wound around Akira’s neck and a blond head buried itself in his shoulder. The familiar touch grounded him back in the present, tangible world. Tension unspooled from his limbs, though the nagging guilt still scratched at his insides.

“What happened?” Akira asked. He felt Ryo’s head turn against his shoulder, settling sideways in the crook of his neck. 

“You had a nightmare. I splashed water on you to snap you out of it.” That much he already knew, what concerned him was the in-between. Ryo’s expression when he came to was almost fearful; whether it was of him or for him he wasn’t sure, and that distinction meant everything.

“Did I hurt you?” He croaked. The arms draped around him squeezed reassuringly.

“No, no, Akira. I’m fine.” Ryo said, sitting up and raising one hand from Akira’s far shoulder to his hairline. Tender fingertips drew a line from his temple, past his cheekbone, to his jaw and back up again.

“Did I scare you?” Akira asked, insistent in determining if he’d done undue harm. The fingertips, having returned to his jawline, traced to his chin and turned his head.  
He freed his downtrodden gaze from the duvet to Ryo.

“It’s okay, Akira.” Ryo offered a small smile, his gaze kind and loving like it had been for a moment earlier. His eyes trailed from Akira’s to his hair, his hand following suit to comb through the fluffy tufts of bedhead. The absence of his fingertips burned against Akira’s chin. “Have these nightmares been happening a lot?”

“Every night.” Akira confessed. The repetitive strokes through his hair paused.

“You never mentioned it.” Ryo said, his voice hollow compared to a second ago.

“It’s not a big deal.” Akira replied, his throat tight and his voice oddly high. A painful moment stretched out between them.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you.” Ryo whispered. Akira looked at his friend and felt a physical ache in his chest at the sight; the anguish written all over Ryo’s face and sunken shoulders was devastating. Akira reached out to Ryo, wrapping an arm around his waist and drawing him in close. Ryo didn’t resist; his head came to rest on Akira’s chest, both arms clasped around his neck.

“I’m not,” Akira said. “It’s worth it. You warned me what would happen and I chose this.”

“Do you regret it?” Ryo’s thumb sweeped up and down against Akira’s neck, brushing the edge of his hairline.

“No. Never.” Akira stated matter-of-factly.

 

____________

 

Light engulfed the room; a brightness so opaque Akira’s sleep-addled mind contemplated touching it. He sighed and rolled over, attempting to face away from the sun but the white walls reflected it with equal intensity. The recognition of the walls and the unencumbered movement alerted him to Ryo’s absence. Akira groaned, sat up, and rubbed his face.

“Good morning.” Ryo said from the other side of the bed, where he sat hunched over his laptop sipping from a white mug. Akira slumped sideways and nestled his head into the duvet at Ryo’s side. Familiar fingers reached down to comb through his hair, ushering him back into the cozy darkness. 

“Please don’t go back to sleep, I was going to wake you in another few minutes. We have a busy day today.” Akira groaned in response. The mug lowered into his field of view. “Will this help?” Akira sat back up and accepted the mug, noticing the way his fingers brushed Ryo’s. He looked down at the black coffee and took a sip.

Akira realized Ryo had changed out of the clothes he’d slept in. The guilt from the night before reawakened in his chest.

“You drink coffee while wearing all white?” He asked, appreciating how the strong bitter taste cut through the syrupy feeling on his tongue. Ryo shrugged in response, not breaking focus from his laptop.

“Have you been awake long?” Akira asked.

“A couple hours.” Ryo answered. Akira felt an extra pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry for last night.” Akira said; he meant to say more, but Ryo spoke before he could.

“No, don’t be.” Ryo placed a hand on Akira’s knee. “That wasn’t your fault.” Ryo gave him a meaningful look before returning to his work.

“But I made you lose sleep when you had to wake up so early.” Ryo looked at him again, this time with a glint in his slightly narrowed eyes and a smirk to his lips.

“I’m a teenager with a PhD, I can function on much less sleep than this.” Ryo replied, earning a smile from Akira. The guilty feeling subsided.

Ryo finished what he was doing and closed the laptop before turning to face Akira. Their fingers crisscrossed as Ryo reclaimed the mug, sipped, and returned it. He brought his legs over the side of the bed and stood, then extended a hand back to Akira. “Come on, then.”

Akira climbed off the bed and accepted Ryo’s hand, leaving the mug on the nightstand. The contrast of the cool palm against his inhumanly warm was surprising but not unpleasant. He realized where Ryo was leading him and arched an eyebrow.

“What-

“Just come on,” Ryo said, pulling Akira into the en suite. Akira noted the spacious expanse of the room, the wall of frosted glass windows, the bathtub and the shower. Every inch of Ryo’s apartment surprised him with its luxury. 

Ryo fetched something from a drawer and then touched Akira’s face. The familiar, comforting sweet citrus smell filled his nose. Ryo grinned as he smoothed the lotion into Akira’s skin, before applying more from the tube to his fingers and massaging it into his own cheeks and forehead, watching his reflection as he did so.

“Rub that in,” Ryo instructed, and Akira copied Ryo’s actions. After a few moments Ryo gestured to the sink. “Now rinse.” Akira did as he was told, and Ryo passed him a towel before following suit. Akira dried off and then touched his face, and saw his reflection’s eyes widen at the softness of his skin. He examined it more closely in the mirror. His face looked fake and glowy. Ryo smiled at him. “Being a demon makes you all gross and sweaty, it was making you break out.” He explained. Akira nodded, still marvelling at the feeling of his skin beneath his comparatively rough fingertips. The smell was nice, too. “I’m going to make breakfast, you can shower or whatever. And try this, if you like.” Ryo took a cylindrical container of another product from the drawer and handed it to Akira. “You can take those if you like them, I have lots.” 

“Thanks, Ryo.” Akira said, looking up at his friend in the doorway.

“Don’t mention it.” Ryo smiled, not meeting Akira’s eyes.

“Can I--I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but something feels off.” Akira touched the back of his neck self-consciously. Ryo was always thoughtful and caring, but something about the gesture gave Akira the impression that there was more meaning behind it. Ryo sighed slightly, leaning back into the room while still holding onto the doorframe. “Is this because of what we talked about last night?” Akira asked, remembering Ryo’s apology. Ryo’s eyes fluttered before focusing on Akira; his eyebrows pulled together and his lips ticked upward on the right side.

“You had a shitty night.” Ryo answered. “I’m not good at saying it, so just let me take care of you, okay?” Akira perked up at the response. 

“It?” Akira asked. Ryo made a face at him. Akira could’ve sworn the glow to his cheeks wasn’t just from the lotion.

“I’m going to make breakfast.” Ryo said as he turned to leave. In protest, Akira lunged forward and swept Ryo up into his arms, one hand under his back and the other under his legs. 

“Akira-

“It?” Akira asked again, bouncing Ryo up and down while he looked thoroughly unimpressed at his new predicament.

“Put me down, please.” 

“Say it, then.” Akira teased, carrying Ryo into the bedroom where there was more room to jump around.

“Akira.” Ryo said impatiently.

“What aren’t you good at saying?” 

Ryo’s hand came up around the back of Akira’s neck and the soft heat of lips pressed into his smile. Akira melted into the kiss, instinctually relaxing even as his mind lit up with the surprise of it. Ryo’s other hand curled fingers into his hair and held tight, pinning their willing captive in place. Akira could feel worry and guilt and excitement and love in the earnest tension of Ryo’s body and the ardent embrace of his mouth. Their lips broke apart momentarily as Akira set Ryo back on his feet, his hands finding new holds at Ryo’s waist as he pulled him back into the kiss. 

Ryo unlaced his fingers as he pulled away, Akira following only to be stopped by an unwavering finger at his chin.

“Busy day, remember?” Ryo grinned at him. Akira blinked back, speechless. “I’m going to make breakfast.”

For a long moment Akira stood in dumbstruck silence, blood rushing to his face in an eager burn as Ryo extricated himself and turned his back to leave. Akira came to his senses and caught Ryo’s wrist just as he reached the hallway. When Akira spun him around, Ryo’s eyes were alight and his cheeks flushed in a way Akira hadn’t seen before. Fondness overflowed from somewhere in his chest, radiating outward to his fingers, his toes--his mouth.

“Say it again.”

 

____________


End file.
